A Hot Shower
by StrongatHeart
Summary: Dylan tries to make Marco's hot shower even hotter.
1. A Hot Shower

**Title: A Hot Shower **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Degrassi. **

**A/N: Well, this was inspired by a true story, lol. This morning while I was taking a shower, I dropped the stupid (full) bottle of shampoo on my foot, and now I have a nice big purple bruise. Yeah, I'm such a klutz, lol. I wish Dylan would make me feel better the same way he tries with Marco… ;)**

There was nothing, Marco decided, absolutely nothing more relaxing than a nice, hot shower after a long day. He could stand there under the steamy downpour for hours, if the hot water would last that long. He ran his fingers through his jet-black hair, pushing it back from his face. It was almost hotter than he could stand it, but that was how he liked it. Never merely warm, but almost blisteringly hot.

However, he didn't want to be standing there when the hot water ran out. He needed to get the cleansing portion of the shower over with first, then he could enjoy the scalding jets of water massaging his back.

Marco reached for the shampoo bottle, wiping water out of his eyes as it dripped down from the hair that had fallen back into his face. He grabbed it, and no sooner had his fingers closed around the full black bottle did it slip right through his grasp. He swore loudly as the heavy bottle landed right on top of his foot.

His eyes were watering, and not just from the shower anymore. He sank to the shower floor, his back against the wall, still cursing in a mixture of English and Italian as he cradled his foot.

"Fucking thing…" he muttered, glaring at the bottle, which had rolled down to the far side of the shower, near the drain. He peeked at his now very sore foot. His now very sore and very purple foot.

Suddenly, he heard the door creak open outside. "Marco?" It was Dylan. "You okay in there? I heard you yelling in Italian," Dylan laughed lightly, and Marco's scowl intensified. A heavily bruised foot was _funny _to his boyfriend? Jerk.

"I dropped the fucking shampoo bottle on my foot. I've never been better," snapped Marco sarcastically, taking another glimpse at the swollen lump.

"You didn't break it, did you?" Dylan's concern could be heard over the rushing of the shower.

"I don't think so. It just hurts like hell."

There was a light breeze, and Dylan poked his head in through the shower curtain. He winced when he saw the bruise that had already begun to form.

"Ouch," he said simply.

"'_Ouch' _is an understatement," Marco growled.

"You sure it's not broken?"

"No. How the fuck should I know?" the Italian said angrily.

"Hang on. I think I can help," said Dylan, his head popping back outside. Marco continued to sit there, slumped against the shower wall, his foot throbbing painfully. He heard the door open and close again, then heard Dylan return. A minute later, the shower curtain was pulled aside again, and a wickedly grinning and very naked blonde stared down at him. Marco's mouth dropped open.

"Dylan!"

Dylan's grin widened. "Yeah?"

"What are you doing?" Marco demanded, gritting his teeth together as his foot gave a particularly painful throb.

"Helping," replied Dylan casually, stepping carefully into the shower. He set something on the side of the tub, but Marco was in too much pain to bother trying to see what it was through the water in his eyes. Which, now that he thought about it, was making his eyes burn, too.

"How the hell is you being naked going to help me?"

His blonde curls plastered to his head, the older boy lowered himself to kneel beside his boyfriend, who merely looked up at him in disbelief.

"Well, I have magical healing powers," explained Dylan, his smirk growing ever wider.

"Magical― _healing powers?"_ repeated Marco slowly, arching an eyebrow. _Yeah, I'll bet you do. Magical― complete with a nice, big, long― _

"I swear I can make you forget all about your foot."

―'_wand.'_

The Italian rolled his eyes. _"Really?"_

Dylan moved closer, so that he was flush up against Marco, the contact of their wet skin making the latter shiver, despite the scalding temperature of the shower raining down on them. The blonde leaned down to capture his boyfriend's lips with his own in a quick kiss.

"Really."

Frustrated as he was in his haze of pain, Marco didn't protest when Dylan kissed him again deeply. Hell, if it could make him forget about the stabbing pains in his foot, he was all for it. He let their tongues tangle with each other as Dylan slowly climbed on top of him, forcing him on his back, on the mat covering the shower floor. He sincerely doubted he'd have been able to stand up to do anything, and Dylan seemed to understand this, for which he was grateful.

Marco pulled the blonde further down on top of him. The stifling heat of the shower in addition to that of his boyfriend was almost too much, but he didn't care. He and Dylan were connected by the lips, and the older boy's hands were running all over his bare body. Dylan's leg wormed its way in between Marco's thighs, brushing against his erection. The Italian moaned hungrily into their kiss.

Dylan nipped at Marco's lips playfully, kissing him with the perfect blend of passion and sweetness. Marco's arms were around his boyfriend's neck, occasionally traveling further upward to run his fingers through the dripping blonde mop of hair. Marco groaned again when Dylan began grinding against him from his current position in the "V" of the younger boy's legs. The blonde reached up to the side of the tub for the bottle of lube he'd brought with him before joining his boyfriend in the shower. Marco waited patiently as Dylan coated a finger, then tensed up when he slid the finger inside him. He bit his lip as Dylan continued to stretch him, adding a second finger, then a third.

Finally, he pulled out, and reached for the condom he'd brought. He slipped it on, using his own back as a shield from the water, then positioned himself over Marco. To Dylan's very great shock, however, he never made it any further than this.

Marco let out a great cry of pain. "OW! _Get-the-fuck-off-Dylan!"_

Dylan blinked, confused and panicky. "I haven't even done anything yet!"

"Get off my foot!"

_Oh. _Dylan immediately scrambled off, backing away to the other end of the tub. "Oh, God, I'm _so _sorry, Marco!"

But Marco wasn't listening. He'd sat up, and was holding his bruised foot, muttering under his breath. Dylan caught a few words of what he was saying, and raised his eyebrows. Marco's vocabulary certainly was_― colorful―_ when he was in pain.

Dylan tried to move forward to comfort him with an embrace, but the moment he touched him, Marco swatted him away.

"Get away from me. You're dangerous," he said, shooting a filthy glare at his apologetic boyfriend. So Dylan was left with no choice but to watch on in helplessness. He wasn't sure if the water running down the Italian's cheeks was from the shower or if it was tears, and felt even worse.

"Is this your idea of _helping?" _Marco spat at him, and Dylan cringed.

"I'm _so _sorry," he said sincerely. "It was an accident."

"I think you broke my fucking foot!"

"Let me see…"

"No!" Marco yelped, backing away against the wall. "Don't touch me."

"Marco, I didn't mean to hurt it," said Dylan desperately. "I'm sorry. Just let me look at it."

"Why, you want to make sure it's broken?" the younger boy snapped.

"No, I just want to see it, I won't touch. I promise," swore Dylan.

The Italian considered him. Finally, slowly, he scooted a bit closer to Dylan, who peered down at the bruise. Marco waited while his boyfriend examined his swollen purple foot, even going so far as to let him touch it gingerly.

"I don't think it's broken. Just bruised," Dylan said after a few moments, going on experience from all his years of hockey-related injuries.

"Really?"

"Yeah. I think it should be fine."

"It still hurts," grumbled Marco. Dylan cautiously leaned over to kiss him on the forehead, and the younger boy gave a reluctant smile. Taking care not to hurt Marco, Dylan moved a bit closer to kiss him gently on the lips. When Marco didn't hit him or start yelling again, Dylan deemed it safe to continue. Slowly, he lowered himself and his boyfriend to the floor again, water cascading over their interlocked bodies. Dylan reached for the lube, this time managing not to squish his boyfriend's bruised foot.

Just as the blonde had promised, Marco soon found that it was all to easy to disregard the pain in his foot and concentrate solely on the pleasure coursing through him, courtesy of Dylan. The water had gotten chilled by now, but they hardly noticed. If it was possible, the shower had gotten even hotter.

* * *

**A/N: If I get enough reviews saying they want it, I have an idea for another chapter. Kind of. So, if you might want to read that, review and tell me, and I'll try it. :) **


	2. A Hot Servant

**A/N: Okay, so it's about three in the morning, I'm freakin exhausted, and I decided for some reason that is completely beyond me, to write this _right _now, lol. Hope you like. If it sucks, just blame it on the fact that it _is _three in the morning, haha. :) **

* * *

"_Dylan!" _

Dylan's face darkened drastically. If he heard his name being called _one more fucking time…_

"Dylan, c'mere! It's really important!"

"Important my ass…" the blonde muttered, sighing heavily as he got up off the couch. Paige snickered, not taking her eyes of the TV screen.

"Shut up, Paige," he said irritably.

She laughed harder. "He's got you running around like some kind of―"

"Servant?" Dylan snapped. "Yeah, I've noticed."

"Well, you _were_ the one who―"

"_I _didn't do that to his foot! _He _dropped a bottle of shampoo on it!" growled Dylan.

Paige shrugged. "That's not the story he's sticking to."

Dylan glared at her. "Well, he's lying. He's the reason it's hurt in the first place. I just kind of― squished it."

"What, did you step on it?" Paige asked.

Dylan flushed. "Something like that."

"_Dylan!" _came Marco's earsplitting shriek from upstairs.

Dylan groaned, and Paige collapsed into another fit of giggles. "You better go, Dylan. Your Master's calling you."

Shooting another withering glare over his shoulder at his sister, Dylan slowly, painstakingly trudged up the stairs. He took care to compose a mask of feigned calm outside his and Marco's closed bedroom door, before pushing it open.

He smiled sweetly at his lover, who was propped up in bed with half a dozen fluffy pillows, surrounded by bags of snacks he'd already eaten, books he'd gotten bored with, and a laptop he'd disregarded.

"Yes, dear?" asked Dylan in a falsely polite tone.

Marco beamed up at him innocently, not noticing how his boyfriend's smile didn't reach his eyes, which were currently shooting icy daggers into the Italian's.

"May I please have some more ice-cream?" he asked in a sugary voice, batting his eyelashes as he held up the empty bowl.

"_Of course _you can, honey," said Dylan through gritted teeth.

"Thank you," Marco handed him the bowl, still grinning his widest smile.

"Your welcome," Dylan forced the words out. He turned around to leave.

"Oh, and Dylan?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't forget the chocolate syrup. You know I like it to look like a little chocolate volcano, so do that."

"Of course, sweetie."

"Dyl?"

"_What?" _Dylan tried to hide the exasperation in his voice.

"Can you hand me the remote? I want to watch TV. Oh, by the way, thanks for hooking that up in here. You're so sweet," this comment was followed by another round of eyelash battings on Marco's part.

"Don't mention it," said Dylan. Really, it probably was best not to. Even the mention of the TV was enough to send his blood pressure skyrocketing. It had taken him an entire hour and a half to set the thing up, only to have Marco watch a half an hour long show before turning it off in favor of his laptop.

Dylan crossed the room to grab the remote off the table beside their bed, just beyond Marco's reach. He had half a mind just to throw it across the room and tell Marco that if he wanted it, he had to get it himself, but, being the far too kind boyfriend that he was, simply handed the remote to the Italian.

"Thanks, Dillie. You're the bestest boyfriend ever," said Marco, and Dylan decided that he was right. He turned around again, and this time Marco let him walk away. He returned with a feeling a dread in his stomach a few minutes later, bringing with him Marco's chocolate ice-cream covered in chocolate syrup to look like a volcano. He handed the bowl to the younger boy, fake smile still firmly in place.

"Here you are, dear."

"Thanks," Marco flashed him another winning smile, and Dylan nearly rolled his eyes. His boyfriend knew full well that he was driving Dylan up a wall. The innocent, helpless act was all just― well, an act. Behind the puppy eyes and innocent face was a twisted, sadistic little twit who loved to torture his unfortunate boyfriend.

Marco eagerly snatched up the spoon, but before he could take a bite, his face fell.

"What's wrong now?" Dylan asked, closing his eyes, praying to the heavens for patience.

"Oh, nothing," said Marco, prodding the ice-cream with his spoon. "It's just…I wanted vanilla ice-cream."

Dylan sighed. "But you _always _want chocolate. _Always," _he pointed out.

Marco shrugged. "Well, this time I wanted vanilla. It's okay, though. I don't want you to have to go through all that trouble. I'll just eat this…"

"No, no," said Dylan, grabbing the bowl from Marco's hands. "I'll get you vanilla."

Marco's face immediately brightened. "Thanks, Dyl!"

The blonde waited until his back was turned to roll his eyes angrily. He returned, five minutes later, with the vanilla ice-cream.

"There. Is that what you wanted?" He shoved the bowl in Marco's hands.

"Yep. Except, well…"

"Well _what?" _asked Dylan desperately.

"Can you feed it to me? _Please,_ Dillie?" Marco begged.

"_Feed _it to you?"

"Yeah. Will you?"

_Oh, that fucking does it. _

Dylan seized the bowl again, and Marco smiled up at him. Dylan got a generous spoonful of ice-cream and brought it towards Marco's mouth. The Italian closed his eyes and opened his mouth expectantly. His eyes jerked open, however, when something icy cold smeared up the side of his face. His gaze immediately locked onto Dylan, who sat there, grinning and licking the spoon. Marco reached up to feel his cheek, and his fingers met a good sized glob of vanilla ice-cream.

"What the hell are you doing?!" he demanded, glaring up at Dylan.

The older boy smirked. "Oops. I must have missed."

"How the fuck could you _miss?!" _

Dylan shrugged. "Like this."

Marco's eyes widened in shock as another lump of freezing cold ice-cream splattered across his bare chest.

"_Dylan!" _

Dylan, however, paid his boyfriend's protests no attention. He was too busy laughing his head off. Marco'd had that coming for days.

Seething, the Italian reached up, grabbed a good-sized handful of ice-cream from the bowl, and smeared it all down Dylan's face, finishing off by wiping his hand clean on the older boy's shirt. The blonde immediately sobered up.

"Hey, that was a good shirt!" said Dylan angrily.

"Well, that was a good bowl of ice-cream," said Marco nonchalantly, licking his sticky fingers the rest of the way clean.

"Oh, you are asking for it now, Del Rossi," growled Dylan. Marco gave a squeal of surprise as his boyfriend flattened him to the mattress with a predatory pounce.

"Watch my f―" Marco began, but was prevented from finishing by Dylan's lips crashing into his. He kissed back forcefully, though his boyfriend quickly dominated the kiss. Dylan had the Italian's arms pinned to the bed as he kissed him fiercely, an almost animalistic gleam in his eyes. Dylan teasingly bit down on Marco's bottom lip, the corners of his mouth twitching when he heard the younger boy's sharp intake of breath. He didn't want to hurt him, but he wasn't really in the mood for tenderness, either.

He pressed Marco further into the pile of pillows, abandoning his mouth to suck on the Italian's neck, leaving behind a faint pink mark. He kissed down his collarbone, down to rouse one nipple with his tongue, brushing over the other with his thumb, licking up the sweet vanilla ice-cream he'd splattered there along the way. Marco's skin had warmed it by now, and Dylan thought it might just be his all-time favorite flavor.

The Italian gasped as Dylan took his nipple between his teeth, his tongue swirling over it. The blonde could feel the other nipple growing hard at his touch, as well, and it wasn't the only thing. Both boys could easily feel each other's erections through the clothing that separated their bare skin.

Dylan ground against his boyfriend, making him moan. Rather enjoying himself, he let his tongue trace a path from Marco's chest down to just above his pants, registering somewhere in the back of his mind that his boyfriend really tasted better than the ice-cream. He felt the younger boy shudder beneath him. Grinning, he released one of Marco's wrists to pull loose the tie on his pajama pants. In a matter of moments, they were completely off, and Marco was entirely naked.

Dylan kissed down the trail of hairs leading to Marco's throbbing erection. He decided to tease his boyfriend a little more, torture him with pleasure. Ever so slowly, he ran his tongue down the length of Marco's aching cock. The Italian whimpered, which only fueled Dylan's satisfaction. He flicked his tongue over the head, lapping up the pre-cum the younger boy offered. He trailed his tongue back up his length, taking pleasure in the moans it brought forth.

"Dylan―"

The blonde ignored the other boy's pleading tone. In fact, he abandoned Marco's cock altogether, sitting back up to kiss his boyfriend hard on the mouth.

"Dyl, please, come on," Marco muttered against his lips. Their aching erections rubbing together, even through Dylan's jeans, was driving him wild, as well, but he forced himself to be patient. He wasn't quite done teasing yet.

While his tongue battled with Marco's, his hand slid down the raven-haired boy's chest and stomach, stopping just below his navel. Marco was kissing him with fervent enthusiasm, his fingers tangled in Dylan's locks. The older boy finally let his hand slip down lower, stroking Marco tantalizingly.

"Mmm," Marco moaned, his fists clenching a little tighter. Dylan broke their kiss, leaving a path of kisses on his way back down to Marco's weeping member. His mouth hovered over it for a second, and Marco shuddered again as Dylan's hot breath ghosted over it. Finally deciding to put the Italian out of his misery, he took him into his mouth, raking his teeth lightly along his length. Marco's fingers had found his curls again, and the blonde felt his boyfriend's fists tighten. He was close now. Again, Dylan ran his tongue over the head, licking up whatever Marco would give him. There was an almost painful tug on his hair, and Marco came spilling into his mouth. Dylan swallowed in satisfaction. He sat up, panting. Marco, too, was having difficulty breathing.

"What―" gasped Marco. "The _hell― _was that for?"

"What, you didn't enjoy it?"

"Of course I did," said Marco, looking surprised.

"Then what's the problem?"

"No problem!" the Italian assured him.

"So, you going to be nice now? Stop treating me like your faithful servant, you spoiled twit?" asked Dylan.

Marco scoffed. "Did you just call me a _spoiled twit?" _

"Yes. Yes I did," said Dylan matter-of-factly.

Marco shrugged. "Oh, okay, just checking."

Dylan chuckled, kissing Marco on his ice-cream smeared cheek. Marco grinned, reaching for Dylan's hand, and tugging him down on top of him.

"Hey, it's your turn… come down here."

Dylan grinned, kissing his boyfriend on the lips.

"Oh, one thing, though," Marco said suddenly, pulling back.

"What?" asked Dylan suspiciously.

"I'm going to need some more ice-cream when we're finished."


End file.
